Love & Werewolves: A Collection Of Short Stories

by Eleanor Butler

to wait,” she said. “Our four year anniversary is coming. We agreed to wait until then to make it special.”

  “I can’t wait any longer,” I said. “Nat, I love you so much. I just want to show you.” Nat grabbed my bag and jacket from the floor.

  “I think you should leave now,” she said. “We can talk about this tomorrow.” I briefly considered pushing the subject but I knew it would be a waste of time.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. I slipped my jacket on and took my bag.

  It was midnight when I was shaken awake. Mum’s expression scared me as I sat up.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I just had a phone call,” she said. “Natasha’s house burnt down.”

  “What?” I whispered. “Is she ok?” Mum shook her head.

  “Their smoke alarm was broken and no-one made it out,” she said. The pain hit as tears started to fall down my cheeks. Mum wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. I was grateful that she allowed me to cry in peace.

  For two weeks, I felt like a zombie going through the motions. I hardly ate or slept and the only time I left my room was to fill my water bottle or use the bathroom. After those horrible two weeks the pain had eased but it was still there. One night I ventured out of my room and went downstairs to find Mum and Dad sitting at the kitchen table. I knew that they had been talking about me.

  “How do you feel?” Mum asked me as I sat next to her.

  “I want to go back to school,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” Dad asked.

  “I need to get my life back on track,” I said. “That includes going to school.”

  “She was your best friend, Quinn,” Mum said. “No one will judge you if you choose to miss a couple more weeks.”

  “If I don’t go back now, I never will,” I said. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” Mum and Dad exchanged glances but chose not to argue.

  “We’ll ring the principal,” she said.

  My first class of the day was English but walking into the class that I had shared with Nat was really difficult and I was tempted to run home to hide under the covers. Then pain threatened to consume me when I saw the desk that we had shared so, I quickly turned away. As I sat down, a teacher that I didn’t recognise entered the classroom. I glanced around but no one seemed surprised to see her and then I remembered that our English teacher had told us she was retiring. The new teacher looked around the room until her eyes settled on me.

  “Continue with what we were working on last week while I speak to Quinn Michele,” she said. Every head turned to me as I gathered my books and once again I resisted the temptation to leave as I walked toward the front of the room.

  “My name is Miss Buckle,” the teacher informed me. “You’ve been away for two weeks?” I nodded as I opened my English book to the last page of my notes.

  “Personal problems,” I said, presuming that she was waiting for an explanation. “My best friend died in a fire. I assume you read about it in the papers?”

  “Yes, I did and I can only imagine what you must be going through. I understand that time is the best healer and in the meantime you should try to carry on with your life as best as you are able.”

  “So what work do I need to catch up?” I asked. Miss Buckle seemed surprised at my abrupt tone but turned to her notes.

  “You’ve read the book, I’m assuming?” she asked. I nodded. I had finished it a few days before that horrible day.

  “We did some work with the characters while you were away,” Miss Buckle said. “I set questions for the class in Friday’s lesson which I’ll give you to work on tonight and then bring them back to me tomorrow”

  “Ok,” I said. I returned to my desk as Miss Buckle got to her feet and walked around the room, checking the other student’s progress.

  I hardly noticed the days grow colder and colder as winter set in. The ache in my heart whenever I thought of Nat was growing worse and I wondered if it would ever leave me.

  “Why did you leave me, Nat?” I whispered one morning. It had now been eight weeks since her death. Our assignment for English was due today and although I had finished it, I knew it was not my best work. I glanced at the assignment, which was sitting beside my bag as I pulled a scarf around my neck. English was my first class of the day and I was dreading it. As I grabbed my bag, I considered leaving my essay behind but I knew that would only cause me trouble. “I’m going, Mum,” I called as I headed for the front room. Although it was freezing outside, I had refused Mum’s offer of a lift to school. Both my parents had taken to watching me closely since Nat’s death and they were beginning to freak me out. The cold air slapped me in the face as I left the warmth of our house but I was grateful for the cold shock that seemed to lessen my feeling of loss.

  Homegroup passed quickly and I soon found myself in English. There were only two students who had not handed in their essay, which Miss Buckle looked at while we read the set chapter. I knew exactly when she reached my assignment because she paused after three pages and glanced at me with concern on her face. Miss Buckle then set my essay aside and started to read the next one, so I assumed that she had finished with mine until the bell rang.

  “Everyone you can go to morning tea,” she said. “Quinn Michele, I’d like to talk to you?” My hands automatically tightened on my books as I waited for the rest of the class to leave. Once the last person had left the room, Miss Buckle walked over to me, “Quinn, is there something you would like to talk about?” Miss Buckle asked as she sat in the seat beside me.

  “No, why do you ask?” I said. Miss Buckle turned to the third page of my essay before passing it to me. A flush crept over my face. I didn’t read it all but five words jumped out to me. Natasha, rose garden, love and suicide.

  “What’s it to you?” I asked and Miss Buckle took my essay back.

  “Quinn, I want to help,” she said as I jumped to my feet.

  “I don’t need help,” I said as something snapped inside me. All the feelings I’d struggled to subside flooded to the surface. “Just leave me alone.” I sprinted from the room and down the stairs and didn’t stop until I had reached the opposite side of the school oval.

  A thousand memories of Natasha began to flash through my mind. I fell to my knees and remembered;

  I saw the first time our eyes met, our first kiss, her beautiful smile, the first time she said she loved me. I buried my face in my hands and let the tears fall as more memories surfaced. I watched as her hand slowly traced its way down my arm, as I slept in her arms. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, after a few minutes I looked up into Miss Buckle’s face. She was holding a box of tissues and I took one gratefully.

  “Natasha was more than a friend, wasn’t she?” she said and I nodded.

  “I was thirteen when I first met her,” I began. “I knew from the first moment our eyes met that she was special, that I would love her…”

  Four Years Earlier

  I looked up as my friend, Steve, wolf whistled at a girl with long red hair and piercing blue eyes who was walking through the gate. When her eyes met mine I felt heat pulse through my body. She smiled at me before heading in the direction of the host.

  “Make it more obvious, why don’t you,” Steve whispered.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, although I knew my question was mute because Steve knew everything about me. He was the only person I trusted enough to tell.

  “You like her,” he muttered as she headed our way.

  “Screw you,” I murmured, barely moving my lips as she drew closer.

  “Natasha,” she called as she reached us. She held out her hand and I shook it. “I noticed you were staring at me.” I dropped my head as my cheeks warmed up.

  “Her name is Quinn,” Steve offered. “She’s thirteen and very single.” I glared at Steve who held his hands up defensively. He knew I wasn’t really mad and later I would thank him. I looked back at Natasha to see her studying me. Heat flooded my body again but this was a dif
ferent kind of heat. Natasha just smiled as our eyes met again.

  “What a coincidence,” she said. “So am I.” I didn’t understand what coincidence she was referring to; was she thirteen or single or both. I didn’t care because I only wanted to know her better. I stared at Steve and he soon understood my message.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said as he walked away. I barely noticed him leave because I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Let’s go somewhere more… private,” I said. Natasha nodded and I took her hand. As I led her into the house, we smiled at each other. I could tell that she was as happy as me that we had met.

  2010

  I blinked back a tear and found myself in the present, sitting on the oval with Miss Buckle.

  “We wanted to be sure of our feelings, so we waited a month before we officially became a couple,” I told her

  “And you were together for four years without anyone knowing!” Miss Buckle said.

  “Our four year anniversary was a week after Nat died,” I said.

  “How did you keep such a secret?” she asked. I smiled as memories of Nat and I sneaking around our houses together surfaced.

  “Sheer good luck. Steve, my best friend was the only one person who knew about us,” I said. “I told him everything but he died in a car crash a month after Nat and I got together.” I picked up a stick and started drawing in the dirt.

  “Didn’t anyone ever suspect?” she asked.

  “I’m sure our parents